


Pony Boy

by baranduin



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High-spirited fluffy PWP after the Hidalgo premiere. Written for a friend's birthday, who makes a cameo appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pony Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Trianne for beta reading.

Elijah practiced his whinnies all the way from Toys 'R Us to the party, though it didn't occur to him that the strange looks he got on the road were for the high-pitched sounds escaping from his Mini Cooper. For one thing, he always got strange looks—double takes, mouths dropping open before emitting shrieks of surprised joy, eyes dripping tears of desperate adoration, mad wavings of pens and scraps of paper, cars weaving, people jumping off curbs into his oncoming path. Ahem. OK, it sometimes seemed like that, so a strange look or two per whinny was not exactly notable.

And for another thing, it wasn't like he got that much reaction since it poured down the proverbial cats and dogs all the way from the store. Two stick ponies, nestled together in the back seat as if awaiting their cues, seemed to approve of Elijah's metaphor. At least he thought they did, having established a close personal bond with them, or at least the dark one with the white diamond on her forehead and the bright glass eyes that seemed to wink approval and fun at him whenever he glanced in the rearview mirror. How appropriate they found his metaphor apt, though he suspected they were very young and inexperienced indeed, given the clichéd nature of his comparison. Nevertheless, it did work, especially when he turned the windshield wipers to high and still could barely see the watery world wavering through the glass.

At least, it was appropriate to Elijah's mind. As he drove down Highland, he suspected the three women huddled together and hurrying away from the El Capitan might not think anything appropriate other than a cup of hot coffee and a towel to dry off with, clever (or not) metaphors be damned. One of them—"hm, looks like one of those hippie type chicks from the party last night"—glanced at his car briefly, without a hint of recognition, before tucking her head down again and trudging along with her equally bedraggled companions.

It also struck his mind, as he hopped out of the car to meet up with Dom and they made their prancing entrance, that he might get more strange looks from the partygoers than he had from the drivers and pedestrians along the way.

He didn't give a fuck. Not when his heart was still soaring from the night before, not when he was floating and dipping more effortlessly than the finest Japanese kite.

There'd only been one thing missing from the night before, and that one thing startled him with a quiet approach. One could say that the man was still channeling Aragorn the Stealthy Ranger of the North, or maybe he was just born that way. Didn't matter.

"Well, hello there, little fella ... you want some sugar?"

Elijah whirled around, his pony friend loose between his thighs, and beamed at Viggo. "Got the sugar already. How'd you guess her name?"

Viggo grinned back at Elijah before wrapping a warm hand around his shoulder, and the one aching gap from the night before closed up in an almost seamless mend. "Jest good luck, I guess, Pony Boy," said Viggo, exaggerating his Western drawl to keep in the spirit of the evening. Or possibly he did that just because it made him laugh. Elijah thought either reason a fine one and joined with Viggo in the laughter of the evening as they all posed with the ponies and the cameras clicked and whirled and Elijah pressed his face against Viggo's shoulder and inhaled his admittedly horse-tinged scent.

 

It was still raining, but Viggo and Elijah were inside where it was warm and snug and dry except for the sweat slicking their bodies as they moved against each other. Sugar rested against Elijah's couch and watched them as they made love. Her prime contribution to their activities was an occasional soft whicker of approval since she was all tuckered out from the excitement of the evening.

Elijah wasn't.

He found the whinny practice came in handy as he rode Viggo, perched on his lap, hard cock sliding slow and sure inside him, filling in those tiny cracks of lonesomeness that still remained from the night before. They were both naked now except for their ties looped loosely around their necks, the better to guide each other from high-stepping walk to galloping finish.

Elijah wrapped his hands around Viggo's tie, the pale blue silk pulling taut against his palms. "Last night was good. Wish you hadn't missed it."

Never missing a stroke, his hips pushing against Elijah's accommodating ass, he rested the backs of his fingers on the striped tie hanging over Elijah's shoulders. "Did I? I watched it ..." Elijah's hands tightened on the silk already snug at the back of Viggo's neck. "... most of it. I saw you a lot. You were smiling." Elijah's hands relaxed their grip.

Viggo concentrated now on smoothing out the fabric of Elijah's tie. It wasn't so much that it was wrinkled as a little rumpled, and all it took was a slow, careful sliding of his hands down Elijah's chest, following the line of the tie's edges as they in turn traced the contours of Elijah's torso.

There. Done. Viggo returned his concentration to Elijah's face. And now he was confused a little. "Did it make you angry that I didn't show?"

Elijah laughed, high-pitched, brief. "Nah ... of course not. I just thought ..." He pressed down and twisted his body to make the sensation come stronger, harder, dipping his shoulder in concert with his hip. His tie slithered off and landed in a little pile on Viggo's belly, and Elijah followed it, draping himself over Viggo's chest, the silk a little lump between them. He tasted Viggo's shoulder. No horse, just clean sweat and the faint undertone of Ivory soap. "... it was so much fun. I missed you. That's all."

They did not speak for a few minutes. How could they, when their bodies met so closely, chest to chest and belly to belly? And why was it that Viggo always liked to stroke Elijah's skin with the backs of his fingers before turning them round to rediscover the same ground with the flats of his palms? He didn't really know the answer to that, but he knew he liked the variation in sensation. His hands eventually came to rest on the balls of Elijah's shoulders, after leisurely tracing the hollow of his throat and the sharp wings of his shoulder blades and the elegant slope of neck to shoulder to arm. His hands did not always come to rest at this specific area of Elijah's anatomy, but it was the appropriate place right now for he needed to look his lover in the eye. He pushed Elijah away, straightening out his elbows while still holding him close within the curve of his palms.

When he had Elijah's attention—the attention of his heart and mind, not clouded by his body, at least not too clouded—he smiled and knew it was a sheepish, foolish thing. "You know I'm not made for those kinds of things. All those eyes. Don't mind the occasional premiere, but that's because the fans are all there, it seems right to do those. But these awards shows. They're so ..." He stopped that train of thought when he saw the little wrinkle appear between Elijah's eyebrows. "... but it made me happy to look at you. You looked happy."

Elijah dropped his forehead to Viggo's and rubbed back and forth. "I was happy. Still am."

"I'm here now."

"Yeah. I know. That's good too."

It was still raining when they went to sleep, and it soothed them as they arranged themselves for the night, or at least what was left of the dark hours. They both listened to the sound of the drops rapping against the window panes, occasionally planting a kiss on a warm shoulder or rubbing a finger against damp skin. Every now and then a phantom whicker from across the room reminded them of their friendly voyeur.

Just as Elijah was about to drop into his sleep, Viggo whispered, "You think Sugar needs a carrot? Watchin's hard work, you know."

Elijah intended to elbow the silly man in the ribs but instead he found himself tightening his arm around Viggo's waist and throwing his leg across his hip. "Unh uh. Go to sleep."

Viggo's laugh seemed to merge with Sugar's snort. "Right. Night, pardner. Night, Sugar."


End file.
